I took the polygraph last week - I am so glad to get that done. The examiner passed me and now it has to go through quality control for final approval. He said the only thing he could see was that my breathing was very measured. I know it is, I do that so I can maximize what voice I have. Not sure what the next step is. I know the people I put down as references have been getting a questionaire on me.

Today as I was mowing the lawn I was thinking about this whole situation and how strange it has been for me. There are times I get nervous about the job, hoping all goes well, hoping I can do it, hoping my voice will cooperate. Underneath it all there is just this feeling that all is going to be OK. It is very hard for me to trust it and I don't understand it at all.

I have changed my prayers from a few minutes on my knees to spending more time in a sort of meditation thinking of the things I am grateful for, saying the things I need assistance with, thinking of others who need help and then just spending some quiet time listening, not thinking of anything in particular. I have often drifted off to sleep by the end of it but I like doing it that way, In a way I feel it is more sincere than what I used to do.

We went to the beach yesterday and were looking in the tide pools. I saw this little multi-legged creature swimming around and, for just a moment, I wondered why I couldn't have been born as one of those. Not much thought process or brain power and probably a very short life span. Then I thought of how we consider being a human the ultimate form of life and if it really is

Twice today I have gone outside and got the scent of burning leaves on the air. The smell takes me back to spring time of my childhood when Mom would start to clean the yard and get ready for spring planting. I loved helping her rake and burn weeds - well, mostly I liked the burning part. My Mom is nearing 80 now and she still loves her flowers and her garden. We always say her greenhouse is her 7th child. Both of my grandmothers also loved flowers and gardening. I guess I come by my love of it naturally. Grandma Barneys hollyhocks always grew the best caterpillars. I loved to go collect them, put them in a jar and take care of them until they spun cocoons and turned into butterflies. She also grew gooseberries - every year we would have to go down and taste them and every year they were so sour they took all the moisture from your mouth.

I also heard a rooster crow when I went outside today - more memories of home. We always raised chickens both to eat and for the eggs. Seems like we always had an ornery rooster in the flock. I probably still have a scar on at least one shin from being spurred more than once by a rooster. I loved when we would get baby chickens in the spring. They would come in the mail. A couple of boxes of peeping yellow fluff. Dad had a pen built for them and he hung light bulbs in it to keep them warm during the night. It was also fun when we had a hen that wanted to sit. When we went to feed the chickens and collect the eggs if there was a hen that wouldn't come off the nest we would tell Dad and he would put her in a special nest and collect several eggs to put under her. It was fun to see them hatch. I also remember seeing lambs being born, Dad having to go out in the cold of night to help Grandpa pull a calf, teaching a calf to drink from a bucket, feeding dogie lambs with a bottle . . .So many good times.